


Better Than the Movies

by xfilessage



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bisexual Male Character, Foggy POV, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Bisexual Character, i started this months ago but i'm determined to finish it this time, mattfoggy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-08-07 22:11:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16416935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xfilessage/pseuds/xfilessage
Summary: Foggy Nelson is Hell’s Kitchen’s greatest interior decorator. When a blind lawyer asks him to fix up his office, Foggy welcomes the challenge of finding a vision for someone who can’t see.He doesn’t take into account falling in love with Matt Murdock.





	1. Coffee

Foggy Nelson was a very visual person.

He saw the world like a mural, in splashes of colour, in light and dark, in tiny details that came together in unexpected and beautiful ways. He was also the type of person who loved making people smile and enjoy their own little section of the world.

It had seemed like the obvious next step, then, to become an interior decorator.

Fashion designer had been a strong contender as well, but maybe that was too much of a stereotype for a bisexual man. Besides, clothes had never been a priority for Foggy. You could say a lot more with your furniture, the space you chose to exist in.

The space that Foggy had chosen was Hell’s Kitchen, Manhattan, New York. Things were ugly there sometimes. It was unkind, unsafe, unfamiliar. And that was where Foggy came in. He was no Captain America or Iron Man, but he could at least make people’s homes or offices a little bit more colourful, a little bit more recognizable.

Foggy wasn’t sure when it had happened, but at some point, he had become a fairly well-known name in Hell’s Kitchen. Maybe it was because he was good at what he did… or maybe he was just the only interior decorator among all of the mob bosses and drug lords.

At the moment, Foggy was humming to himself between sips of coffee as he walked into the office of Nelson Interior Design. His secretary and best friend, Karen Page, was sitting at her desk, doodling something on a pad of paper. She looked up as Foggy opened the door.

“Good morning, Karen,” he said, and dropped a muffin in a paper bag onto her desk.

Karen peered into the bag and smiled. “Good morning, Foggy. I like your tie.”

Foggy ran a hand down the floral-printed fabric and raised an eyebrow. “You're only saying that because I bought you a muffin.”

Karen shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.” She picked up the muffin, but before she could take a bite, the phone rang. 

“Aww,” said Foggy as she shook crumbs off of her fingers and picked up the phone.

“Nelson Interior Design, this is Karen speaking. How may I help you today?” She paused for a second, listening, eyeing the muffin. “All right. I’ll put you through. One moment, please.” Holding the phone away from her mouth, she said, “Potential client, Foggy. Line one.”

Foggy headed into his office, sank down into his chair, and picked up the phone. “Good morning. This is Foggy Nelson. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Oh… hello.” It was a man’s voice, soft and amiable. “My name is Matthew Murdock.”

“Hi there, Matthew,” responded Foggy. “What can I do for you today?”

“Matt,” said the man. “Please call me Matt. And, well, I’m in need of some interior decorating. I’m a lawyer, and I think my office is a little… lacking. I’d like you to make it a more welcoming place for clients.”

“I see,” said Foggy, scratching down a few notes in his notebook. _Lawyer. Sounds like a nice guy._ “Do you have a vision for the office? What colours do you like?”  
There was a small silence, and then Matt cleared his throat. “Um, Mr. Nelson--”

“Call me Foggy.”

“…Well, Foggy, there’s something I haven’t mentioned. I don’t have a vision for the office because I don’t really… have a vision for anything. I’m blind.”

Foggy paused, the tip of his pen poised above his paper. “Oh.”

“I know what I liked when I was a kid, before I lost my sight,” Matt went on. “But I doubt bright red race cars would look great in a law office. Your reputation precedes you, though, and I trust you can make my office look good to those who can actually see it.”

A smile spread across Foggy’s face. “Well, I would be honoured to take your case, Matt,” he said. “When are you available to meet? I’d like to come over to get a feel for the office.”

“Anytime,” said Matt. “I’m between clients at the moment.”

Foggy looked down at his calendar. “I can pencil you in tomorrow morning at ten o’clock,” he told him. 

“Perfect,” Matt replied. “Do you have something to write with, Foggy? My address is…”

Foggy wrote down the address that Matt gave him. “Thank you,” he said. “Well, it was nice talking to you. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten, all right?”

“Yes,” said Matt. “Thank you.”

“No,” Foggy responded. “Thank _you._ ”  
With that, he hung up the phone and scooted his chair out of his office and over to Karen. “I’ve got a good feeling about this, Kare!” he said, tapping the edge of her desk for emphasis.

Karen set down the half-eaten muffin. “You say that every time, Foggy.”

“Maybe. But I’m  _ serious  _ this time,” said Foggy. “I think this is going to be the most interesting case I’ve taken for a while now.”

“Interesting?” Karen repeated. “Please tell me he didn’t ask you to spruce up his drug den. He sounded so nice on the phone.”

“How did you guess?!” joked Foggy. He waited for Karen to laugh before adding, “But, in all seriousness, I do think this will be an interesting case. The guy’s blind. He can’t tell me with colours and patterns what he wants his office to look like. He has to tell me with feelings. I’ve never done something like that before. To be honest, I’m looking forward to it.”

Karen was smiling. “And here I thought you were going to take advantage of the poor guy and make his office look hideous.”

Foggy raised a hand to his mouth in mock offense. “How  _ dare  _ you, Miss Page? Who do you take me for?”

She laughed. “I’m sorry. Will you accept some muffin as a peace offering?”  
Foggy thought about the muffin he had scarfed down on his way to the office, smiled, and replied, “Yes. I’m starving.”

Karen broke off a piece of her muffin and handed it to Foggy. He popped it into his mouth and added, “Also. Does the name Matthew Murdock mean anything to you?”

“No. Should it?”

“I don’t know,” said Foggy. “It sounds familiar to me.”

Karen pursed her lips. “You might be thinking of Matthew McConaughey. Have you seen Dallas Buyers Club?”

“Maybe that’s it.” Foggy rubbed at his lower lip. Something in the back of his mind was telling him that no, he  _ did  _ recognize Matt’s name from somewhere. Had they gone to the same school? Or maybe Foggy had just seen it written on a print ad somewhere.

_ That must be it. _

  
  


The following morning, after grabbing breakfast and bringing Karen a muffin per usual, Foggy made his way to the address Matt had given him. It was in a small office complex just a few minutes away from Foggy’s own office. On the phone, Matt had specified which office was his, but it was clear from the sign on the door:  _ Matthew M. Murdock, Attorney at Law  _ was printed on a smart metal frame, with a line of braille underneath that Foggy ran a finger over before knocking.

“Coming!” that soft voice called out from inside.

As Foggy waited, he looked down at the notes he had written:  _ Lawyer. Sounds like a nice guy.  _ At the end of this visit, he would have a more concrete idea of what he would be creating. Already, colours and fabrics were starting to come to life in his mind.

Just then, the door opened. Foggy looked up from his notebook, and found himself face-to-face with the most attractive man he had ever seen.

He was a shock of dark and light. Dark hair, light skin. Dark jacket, light shirt. Dark glasses, light cane. His smile was shy, cautious, and Foggy’s heartbeat began to thunder in his chest.

“Hi,” said the man. “May I ask who’s there?”

Foggy opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. “It’s Foggy Nelson, the interior decorator. You must be Matt Murdock.” He held out his hand. There was a pause, and then, as if to impossibly remind Foggy of how futile that was, Matt adjusted his glasses. “Er… sorry,” added Foggy. “Will you, uh, take my hand?”

Colour splashed across Matt’s cheekbones. “Pardon?”

_ Fuck.  _ “ _ Shake  _ my hand,” Foggy corrected himself. “Sorry.”

Matt smiled and shook Foggy’s hand. “It’s nice to actually meet you, Foggy. Come in.” He stepped into his office, and Foggy watched the way his hand ghosted along the doorframe, remembering where it was, where he was.

He followed Matt inside. The office was small, but spacious; maybe that was because it was  _ empty.  _ There was a bookshelf against one wall, stacked high with books and binders that Foggy assumed were in braille. The walls were barren-- understandably, Foggy could admit, based on their owner’s disability-- except for one thing: a framed diploma from Columbia University. The only other furniture in the office was a desk near the back wall with a couple of chairs pointed toward it. Foggy wandered over to the chairs; they had clearly been purchased at different times, from different places, without regard to any sort of order or matching. One was brown, made of a slippery kind of faux leather, and the other was dark green corduroy. 

The colours were not Matt’s fault, obviously, although if it were Foggy who was blind, he would have asked one of the employees at the store to help him match colours. Then again, if it were Foggy who was blind, he wouldn’t have the same love for colours that he did as a seeing person.

The different materials, however, Matt had no excuse for. 

“This place needs a lot of work,” remarked Foggy.

Matt, who had drifted over to where Foggy was standing, blushed. “Is it really that bad?”

He looked embarrassed enough that Foggy immediately backtracked. “No, it isn’t  _ bad.  _ And, you know, you would kind of have an excuse if it was. But it isn’t. It’s just a bit… empty. And a bit  _ sad. _ ”

“Sad?” echoed Matt. He looked amused now, to Foggy’s relief.

“This office just screams ‘blind guy’,” said Foggy.

“I  _ am  _ blind,” said Matt.

“Yes,” agreed Foggy. “But that isn’t the first thing you want people to see, is it? You’re a lawyer. You’re the one who can defend them in court or get them out of jail or whatever it is you do. You also happen to be blind, but that shouldn’t be their main focus. It certainly isn’t  _ your _ main focus, because your main focus is  _ them.  _ The client. And that’s what your office should say.”

Matt was silent for a long moment. Finally, just as Foggy was beginning to think he’d said the wrong thing, Matt remarked, “You’re good at this,”

Foggy shrugged, grinning. “It’s my job, Matt. I’m sure you understand that.”

He sat down in the green corduroy chair. Matt sat down in the faux leather one. “So what do you suggest?” asked Matt.

“Getting rid of these chairs, for a start,” said Foggy. “Or at least the one I’m sitting on. Then I’ll work on the walls. New paint job, some artwork to hang up, that kind of stuff. And maybe… a rug. Nothing you’ll trip over, though. Just something small to tie the room together.”

Matt nodded slowly. “Sounds good. Do I pay up front, or…”

“Hey. Don’t be hasty,” responded Foggy. “I don’t ask for payment until I know exactly what I’m going to do.”

“Didn’t you just tell me what you were going to do?” asked Matt.

“I told you the  _ plan, _ ” Foggy said. “But I don’t start anything until I get to know my client. Your office has to reflect  _ you,  _ Matt, and right now, I don’t know a lot about you.”

Matt rubbed at the back of his neck. “Do you do this with all your clients, Foggy?”

“Only the hot ones,” quipped Foggy.

Matt laughed. It was a wonderful sound, startling against Matt’s shy exterior. “Do you, um…” he began. “Do you want to grab some coffee?”

Foggy smiled. “Yeah,” he replied. “I would like that.”


	2. Sunlight

After leaving Matt’s office, Foggy had gone to the edge of the sidewalk to hail a cab, expecting their destination to be one of the Starbucks that had sprouted up like weeds nearby, but Matt pointed instead to the strip of shops across the street from his office. “There’s a nice little café over there that I visit sometimes,” he said. “We could go there, if you want.”

“Let’s do it,” responded Foggy. Matt joined him at the edge of the sidewalk, and as they waited for an opportunity to cross the street, Matt’s hand drifted up and came to rest in the crook of Foggy’s elbow. A shiver ran up Foggy’s arm, radiating from Matt’s touch like ripples in a pond. 

He must have jerked away a bit, because Matt said, “Sorry. It’s just… you know. I’d rather not get hit by a car before I even get my coffee.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” Foggy told him. With his brain at least ten steps behind his body, he reached over and patted Matt’s hand. To his relief, Matt grinned. Foggy kept his hand there as they crossed the street and headed into the café. They ordered, paid, and found a table with their drinks; for Matt, black coffee with just a pinch of sugar, and for Foggy, some foamy caramel concoction that the barista recommended. After taking a sip and promptly wiping off the foam moustache that had formed, Foggy began, “So, Matt, tell me about yourself.”

Matt drummed his fingers around the sides of his cup. “Well, I was born here in Hell’s Kitchen. I went to Columbia University.”

“No, no. Not those kinds of things,” Foggy told him. “I’m going to be redecorating your office, and you can’t tell me what colours or patterns you like. I need to know about  _ you,  _ not your life.”

Matt was silent for a moment. “Most people don’t ask about  _ me.  _ They ask about  _ this _ .” He gestured to his glasses, his eyes. “They ask how it happened, how I get around, how I manage to hold down a job that isn’t bagging groceries. All they can see is that I  _ can’t.  _ It’s refreshing to have someone ask about  _ me. _ ” He paused again, and laughed softly. “Of course, now I have no idea what to say.”

“I think you just said a lot,” Foggy mused. “Okay. Um… how about this, then? I tell you something about me, then you tell me something about you. That way we’re both in the spotlight.”

A smile spread across Matt’s face. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Foggy took another sip of his foamy concoction. “Here, I’ll start: My name is actually Franklin.”

Matt laughed. “ _ Franklin?  _ No.”

Foggy grinned, basking in the sound of Matt’s laugh. “Oh, yes. So I think you can understand why I go by Foggy.”

“Franklin,” Matt repeated, chuckling airily to himself. “Ever go by Frankie?”

“At gunpoint.”

“So why ‘Foggy’?”

“Hey,” said Foggy. “It’s your turn. Tell me something about yourself first.”

“All right.” Matt paused for a second, thinking. “Well… my favourite colour used to be blue. Like the sky.”

“There we go! That’s something,” responded Foggy.

“So tell me: why ‘Foggy’?”

“Because my college roommate always said I snored like a foghorn,” Foggy explained. “He called me Foghorn at first, but he was always high off his ass, and that was too many syllables for him. So it got shortened to Foggy, and to be honest, I prefer that to Franklin.”

Matt nodded. “Fair. You, uh… do you still snore?”

It was an odd question, but Foggy answered anyway. “Nope. I think I was just allergic to something in the dorm room. Probably the ever-present stink of weed.”

A soft laugh escaped Matt’s perfect lips. “My roommate at Columbia was kind of an ass, too,” he said. “He insisted in making our room party central, even when I was trying to study, so I ended up spending all my time either in the library or at my girlfriend’s place.” After a momentary pause, he added, “She isn’t my girlfriend anymore. She, uh… she turned out to be kind of an ass as well. I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

A weight lifted from Foggy’s chest that he hadn’t even realized was there. He scratched absentmindedly at the fabric of his shirt, as if to reach inside and feel what had changed.  _ Why do I care if he’s single?  _ Before he could ruminate on it, however, Matt said, “I guess it’s my turn now. I may as well tell you what you’re probably wondering. Well… I lost my sight in a car accident when I was nine.”

Something clicked in Foggy’s brain.  _ Matthew Murdock. Blind. Hell’s Kitchen. Car accident.  _ “Oh my God,” he said. “You… I remember. I read about you in the newspaper.”  _ That  _ was why the name had sounded familiar. He hadn’t been thinking of Matthew McConaughey after all.

Matt’s eyebrows shot up. “You did?” he asked.

“Yeah, I did! You saved someone from getting hit by a car, right? I was  _ obsessed  _ with you for, like, three days,” laughed Foggy. “I remember standing at the street corner outside my house, waiting for my chance to push someone out of the way of traffic. And then my dad told me that you actually lost your sight in that accident, and it sort of lost its appeal to me.”

It was then that Foggy noticed that Matt had started to scratch absentmindedly at his cup. Foggy’s chest went cold. “I-I’m sorry. That sounded… Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Matt.

“No, it’s not.” Foggy scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “I sound like an asshole. If you want to leave, I totally underst--”

He was interrupted by the warm weight of Matt’s hand coming to rest on top of his own. The touch was tentative at first, and then he began to run his thumb ever so slightly over Foggy’s skin.

“It’s really okay,” Matt said. “I’ve heard far worse.”

Foggy wanted to turn his hand over to properly hold Matt’s, but he had a feeling that if he moved even an inch, Matt would pull away. He seemed like that kind of person; not callous, not nervous, but  _ cautious.  _ So Foggy stayed completely still.

Matt held his hand there for a moment, but then pulled away.

“For the record,” he added, his tone light, “There isn’t a lot of appeal to being blind other than having a good reason to link arms with attractive strangers.”

The ghost of Matt’s touch was still warm in the crook of Foggy’s elbow. He smiled. “You have no idea if someone’s attractive if you’ve just met them, though.”

“Not physically, no,” agreed Matt. “But you can tell a lot from someone’s voice… and what they say.”

Foggy’s gaze snagged on the soft smile Matt was wearing. It was the kind of smile that would make one’s eyes twinkle. For a moment, Foggy wished he could take Matt’s dark glasses off and see it. Before he could say or do anything, however, Matt cleared his throat. “Your turn,” he said.

“Huh?”

“I told you something about me. It’s your turn now.”

_ I find you very attractive,  _ thought Foggy. Instead, he said, “My parents wanted me to be a butcher.”

Matt laughed again, and the café filled with sunlight.


	3. Nutmeg

Two weeks into the designing process for Matt’s office, and Foggy was the least productive he had ever been.

“Maybe it’s because you spend all your time at cute date places with Matt instead of at the office working,” Karen suggested, her tone light.

“I resent the implication,” quipped Foggy, balancing his cell phone between his ear and shoulder as he smoothed the sleeves of his shirt.  
“So why am I here at the office all alone?”

“Because I pay you to be there,” Foggy laughed. “Anyway, I’m meeting with a client this morning. That’s where I am. I won’t be in until later.”

“All right,” responded Karen. “I have some work to do, so I’ll be in at the regular time.”

“Thanks. I’ll bring you a croissant or a cookie or something for later.”

“You better,” Karen joked. “I don’t do this work for free, you know.”

Foggy was about to fire back with a lame joke of his own when he caught sight of Matt across the street. He was wearing a light blue dress shirt, tapping his cane in front of him as he walked. Foggy smiled. “Hang on, Kare,” he said. “I gotta go. Matt’s coming.”

“ _ That’s  _ the client you’re meeting with?” asked Karen. “Didn’t you and Matt already meet about his office, like, two days ago?”

“Okay, so maybe it’s more of a  _ friendly  _ get-together this time,” Foggy admitted. “We’re getting brunch at that nice place near the park.”

“Like a date,” said Karen. “I knew it.”

“It’s not a  _ date.  _ I like brunch.”

“No. No no. You like _Matt._ That’s what this is.”  
“I do _not,_ ” replied Foggy, and then winced at how juvenile it sounded. “I mean, I don’t. Matt’s just a client. A friend.”

“Weren’t you just telling me yesterday how hot he was?”

“Yeah. He is hot. He’s a friend who just happens to be hot. But the attraction is purely physical, I promise.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” said Karen. “I should let you go now anyways. Matt must be getting close.”

“Nah, he’s still across the street,” said Foggy. Matt was waiting for the light to turn green on the next block over, his head tilted to the side, listening to the cars going by. “You have approximately twenty seconds for a final statement. What’s it gonna be?”

“That’s so much pressure!” giggled Karen. “Uh… um…”

The lights changed, and Matt started to walk across the street. “Too late,” said Foggy. “Talk to you later, Kare.” He hung up the phone and looked back up. Matt was walking down the sidewalk just a few yards away. “Matt,” he called over. 

Matt stopped, turning toward the sound. “Foggy?”

Foggy reached out and gave Matt’s arm a light touch. “Right here. Hi.”

A smile spread across Matt’s face. “Good morning,” he said. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too,” responded Foggy. “By the way, Matt, I love the colour of your shirt.”

“Thank you,” said Matt. “I can’t take credit for it, though. I usually just go into a store and ask an employee to pick out whatever they think would look best on me.”

“Well, someone had a good eye,” added Foggy. “You look sharp as hell.”

Matt laughed. “Thank you. And you, Foggy, you’ve never looked better.”

Warmth spread from the centre of Foggy’s chest up to his cheeks. “Aw, thank--”  _ Wait a second.  _ He paused, watching Matt’s soft smile turn to a smirk. He laughed. “Okay, you actually had me for a second there.”

“Works every time.” Matt laughed again before nestling his hand in the crook of Foggy’s elbow again. “Should we head out?” he asked.

“Sounds good,” said Foggy. “The place we’re going to isn’t that far, just about a five minute walk. I know we could take a cab, but the weather’s just so nice, I figured we could walk.”  
“Walking is fine with me.”

“This place has the absolute best Eggs Benedict, Matt, you won’t believe it. I promise the walk is worth it.”

Matt turned his head toward Foggy. He was smiling. “It’s already worth it, I think.”

Heat jumped into Foggy’s cheeks. “Um,” was all he could manage. 

At the restaurant, Foggy chose a table near the window, and he and Matt sat down. Fifteen minutes later, they were digging into heaping plates of Eggs Benedict-- Foggy’s with ham, Matt’s with spinach and mushrooms, both smothered liberally in hollandaise sauce. Taking advantage of the fact that Matt couldn’t see him, Foggy shoved a huge bite into his mouth. “Oh my God,” he moaned. “I cannot get enough of this stuff.”

Matt’s head was tilted toward Foggy as if he was listening to him, a light blush high on his cheeks. He took a bite of his own brunch, and smiled. “The best hollandaise sauce I’ve ever tasted,” he remarked. “I love it when they mix in a bit of nutmeg.”

“Nutmeg?” asked Foggy. “I didn’t even realize. You have a good tongue, Matt.” The words had barely left Foggy’s mouth before he realized what he had just said. Heat spread through his cheeks, matching the bright pink that Matt’s face had become. “I-I’m--” he stammered. Before he could straighten out his brain enough to form a response, however, a loud crash reverberated around the room. Foggy’s head snapped up to see a harried-looking waitress crouching down beside the remnants of a handful of broken plates. However, his gaze was drawn back to his own table at the sound of metal hitting porcelain. Matt had dropped his fork onto his plate, both hands clamped over his ears. Concern pinged in Foggy’s chest. “Matt? You okay?” he asked.

Matt lowered his hands and felt around for his fork. “I-I’m sorry,” he said. He gave a wan smile, but Foggy could tell that he was shaken up. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Let’s head outside and get some air.” Foggy took out his wallet and put a handful of bills onto the table-- probably a few more than necessary, but it was better than tipping less, and he didn’t want to make Matt wait.

Outside, Foggy and Matt sat down on the steps leading up to the restaurant. Matt folded up his cane and ran a hand across its smooth surface.

“Are you okay?” asked Foggy again.

Matt nodded.

“You sure?”

“I’m all right, really,” said Matt. “It’s just… when I lost my sight, my other senses became sensitive. Loud sounds hurt sometimes.”

Foggy paused for a moment, his eyes caught once again on Matt’s pink lips, slightly pursed. “I’m sorry,” he responded.

“It’s okay.” Matt smiled again, a real smile. “ _ I  _ should be the one apologizing, Foggy. This has to be the worst date you’ve ever been on.”

Date?

_Date?_ _  
_ Foggy’s mouth went dry. As his silence drew out, Matt tilted his head to the side, a soft crease appearing between his eyebrows. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. Sorry,” replied Foggy. “It’s just… I didn’t know… I wasn’t thinking that this was. You know. A date.” The corners of Matt’s mouth turned down, and Foggy immediately backtracked. “It’s not bad. I like… I like that this is a date. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Matt still looked on edge. Instinctively, Foggy placed a hand on his knee. “It’s okay, Matt. It’s really okay.”

Matt said nothing, but turned his head ever so slightly toward Foggy’s. Those perfect lips were so close. Foggy leaned in closer, his heart beginning to drum in his chest.

_ I could kiss him. _

_ I  _ should  _ kiss him. _

_ I could-- _

Just then, his phone beeped. The sound was enough to snap Foggy out of his reverie. Matt’s lips were so close,  _ so  _ close, his expression unreadable behind his dark glasses. Maybe that was for the best.

_ Who are you to think that Matt Murdock would want to kiss someone like  _ you?

All of Foggy’s confidence fell out of him like the bottom of a wet cardboard box. Suddenly the pounding of his heartbeat didn’t feel so good anymore. He turned his head, pulling out his phone. The beep had been a text from Karen:

_ hope your DATE goes well :) text me after okay? _

“Foggy?” asked Matt.

The image of Matt’s lips so close to his was still rattling around Foggy’s brain. “It’s, uh…” he began. “That was a text from my employee, Karen. She says… she says there’s an emergency back at the office. Our, uh, our coffee machine caught on fire, and I need to get back there to check the damage.”

_ What are you doing? _

Matt was silent for a few long moments, his perfect mouth a hard line. “All right,” he said finally, his voice tense. “I hope everything’s okay back at your office.”

“Thanks, Matt,” he replied. “I-I’ll call you later, okay? I’m sorry.”

Matt said nothing. Foggy hesitated on the step, waiting for a response, but it didn’t come. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and walked away.

Everything felt wrong. He ran his hands through his hair, sighing as it fell across his face.  _ It would be a mistake to kiss Matt,  _ he thought. All it would do would ruin the friendship that was only beginning to blossom. 

But at the same time, Foggy couldn’t help but feel like he had already ruined everything.


	4. Cornflower

Foggy walked back to his office numbly, so slowly that the tall buildings seemed to swim around him. His mind was on Matt-- Matt’s smile, his lips, the way he had looked when Foggy pulled away. By the time his thoughts flickered away from Matt’s face, he was outside of the Nelson Interior Design office building.

Karen was sitting at her desk when he went in. She greeted him with a wide grin, which faded when she saw the look on his face. “Foggy, what’s wrong?” she asked.

Foggy collapsed into the chair across from her desk, head tossed back. “Karen… something happened while we were out at brunch.”

“What happened?”

“He called it a date,” Foggy said. “And I… I almost kissed him.”

He said the words like they hurt him, but Karen’s smile returned. “That’s great!” she exclaimed.

“No, no, it’s…” Foggy ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how I feel about it, actually. He said it, and I freaked out, and I told him there was a fire in the office and I  _ left. _ ”

“You just  _ left? _ ” Karen gasped. “Oh, Foggy, you need to go back there.”

“I don’t know,” said Foggy. “I mean--”

“ _ Foggy, _ ” Karen repeated, cutting him off. “I need to tell you something, because it seems like you’re too far up your own ass to realize it yourself, and I don’t want you to let this opportunity pass you by.”

“Okay?”

She looked him straight in the eyes. “You are in love with Matt.”

Foggy gave a helpless laugh and rubbed a hand over his face. “I am  _ not  _ in love with Matt.”

“You  _ are! _ ” exclaimed Karen. “Foggy, please. You two hang out almost every day, and when you aren’t with him, you’re here, talking about him!”

“Because he’s my client!” Foggy retorted. “Look, Matt is a great guy, but he’s just a friend. I don’t like him that way. I mean, I’ll admit that he is attractive, but who _wouldn’t_ be attracted to him? He’s… a really, really good-looking guy. I mean, _wow_. But I would never want to mess up our friendship, because I really value it. Matt’s such a good friend. He’s just so genuinely _nice,_ you know? And funny. He seems like such a serious guy, but I think that just makes him funnier when he does crack a joke. And _yes,_ Karen, he happens to be hot. But I’m not in _love_ with him.”

By the time he finished, Karen was shaking her head, laughing softly. “Oh my God,” she said. “ _ Listen  _ to yourself!”

“ _ What? _ ”

“I couldn’t have made that up if I tried!” laughed Karen. “Stop arguing with me for a second and just  _ think  _ about it.”

“I’m not--” Foggy began, but stopped when Karen raised her eyebrows at him.  _ She’s wrong, obviously,  _ thought Foggy.  _ I would  _ know  _ if I was in love with Matt. _

Right?

The moment he allowed a trickle of doubt into his mind, everything came crashing in. The way he had felt when he had thought Matt had a girlfriend. The way his heart soared every time Matt smiled. The way he had felt when Matt’s lips were so close, the way that all of the possibilities in the entire world had seemed to fit into that one moment. 

“Fuck,” groaned Foggy, leaning his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m in love with Matt.”

“I  _ told  _ you!” exclaimed Karen.

“You were right,” said Foggy. “I  _ hate  _ when you’re right.”

“I know you do.” Karen reached across the table and patted his arm, grinning. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” murmured Foggy.

“ _ Nothing?! _ ”

“I told you, I don’t want to mess up our friendship,” said Foggy. “And besides… Matt may  _ think  _ he’s attracted to me, but that’s only because he hasn’t actually  _ seen  _ me.”

The words hung in the air, raw. Foggy pressed his hands to his face, unsure of where they had come from. Somewhere in the darker reaches of his mind that he tried to fill with bright colours. Karen stared at him, eyes wide. “Foggy,” she began gently. “You  _ know  _ that’s not true.”

“How do you know?”

“Do you really think Matt is that shallow?” asked Karen. “If he was, do you think you would be in love with him?” Before he could answer, she shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t. Foggy, you have the kindest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. You’ll let anyone in, but it’s not just anyone that you let  _ stay  _ there. I can tell that Matt is a good person. If he loves you-- which I think he does-- then he loves you for what’s in here.” She ended her sentence by pressing a finger into Foggy’s chest, just above his heart. He looked down at her finger and back up, smiling. 

“My extremely toned chest?” quipped Foggy, already feeling the tension inside of him starting to lessen.

“ _ There’s  _ the Foggy I know and tolerate,” laughed Karen. “Come here, you idiot.” She removed her finger and pulled Foggy in for a hug. He squeezed her, grateful for her warmth.

“Thank you, Kare.”

“Anytime,” said Karen. “Now, go back out there and get your man!”

The smile slipped off of Foggy’s face. “I… can’t.”

“Why not?!”

“Because… okay, we’ve established that  _ if  _ Matt loves me, he loves me for who I am,” Foggy explained. “But that’s still an  _ if.  _ Matt may not like me that way, or… or that  _ much. _ ” Karen opened her mouth, but Foggy went on before she could say anything. “You can’t tell me, Kare, that you’ve never gone on a date and then decided, yeah, I like them, but I don’t need to do that again.”

“Foggy--” Karen began.

“Karen, please!” Foggy exclaimed. She flinched, and Foggy immediately regretted raising his voice. “I’m sorry,” he added. “I… I’m just… I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I need time to process it.”

“I get it,” said Karen. “I’m here for you, okay?”

Foggy smiled weakly. “I know.”

* * *

 

 

“Cornflower or royal blue?”

“What?” asked Karen, not looking up from her notes.

Foggy waved a hand in front of her face until she looked up at the two swatches of blue paint he was holding. “Cornflower or royal blue? Which do you like better?”

Karen squinted at the colours. “The royal blue is bolder, and the cornflower is more comforting. I don’t know… you know Matt, which one do you think he would like more?”

Foggy raised an eyebrow. “He isn’t going to be the one looking at it, Kare.”  
“Shit. I forgot.” Karen put her face in her hands and let out a muffled laugh. “The cornflower, then. I think people want to feel comforted when they’re in need of a lawyer.”

“You’re right.” Foggy nodded and tossed aside the darker shade. He began to scribble into his notebook, but stopped when he realized that Karen was looking at him. “What?” he said.

“So you’re really not talking to him?” she asked.

“You say that like it’s been months since we spoke,” grumbled Foggy. “It was only yesterday that we went out for brunch. When he… when he almost kissed me. And as far as Matt knows, I had to leave because there was a fire here. The office could be in cinders by now. I could have died.” He finished writing in his notebook and put it aside. “Look, I’m so close to finishing Matt’s office. The furniture should be coming in tomorrow, and tonight I’m giving my choices to the painters. I’ll talk to Matt once his office is done.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “Well, it better be soon.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Foggy laughed. “Matt’s office will be done by the day after tomorrow. Happy now?”

“Not until you lock this down,” said Karen. “I’m pretty sure that Matt loves you, but no one can wait forever.”


	5. Bloom

Foggy was bad at a lot of things-- including relationships, one could argue-- but interior decorating was not one of them. Matt’s office was finished the day Foggy said it would be, three days after their brunch, and it looked  _ good.  _ Usually, Foggy could stand for hours admiring every inch of his handiwork; seeing your sketches and ideas scribbled in a notebook become something real, visible, and colourful was something that never got old. But he spent barely five minutes in the office before dropping everything to head over to Matt’s apartment.

He had never been to Matt’s apartment before, but Matt had given him the address once, written it in Foggy’s notebook in an overlapping scrawl. It was a clean building, one of the nicer ones in Hell’s Kitchen. It was only after Foggy got up to Matt’s floor that he realized he had sprinted the entire way there. That was more exercise than he had done in the entire past month.

Maybe that was love. Foggy wasn’t sure. The only thing he knew was that he had missed talking to Matt over the past three days.

He knocked on the door and waited, rocking back and forth on his heels. After a few moments, the door creaked open and Matt appeared, wearing a baggy grey sweatshirt. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Foggy was taken aback by Matt’s tone. The soft, cautious voice he had fallen in love with was gone, replaced by something jagged and cold. “I… are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Matt crossed his arms. “No. You’ve been avoiding me, Foggy. I think I have a right to not be okay about it.”

The worst part was that Matt was right. Foggy swallowed hard. “Matt, I… I’m sorry--”

“I know you were lying about the coffee machine,” Matt went on. “You’re an absolutely terrible liar. If you didn’t want to be on a date with me, you could have told me. Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t handle being let down.”

It was like stumbling into someone else’s argument. “You’ve got this all wrong,” said Foggy. “I wasn’t avoiding you because I don’t like you. I was avoiding you because I… because…”  _ Now or never. Say it.  _

“Because what?” asked Matt.

“I-I’m…” Foggy stammered.

_ Tell him. _

“Because I realized I’m in love with you, Matt!” exclaimed Foggy. “I was avoiding you because it terrifies me how much I like you, because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before!”

The words hung in the air, heavy, deafeningly silent. Now it was Matt’s turn to be speechless. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “You’re in love with me?” he asked finally, his voice soft again.

“Yes,” whispered Foggy.

For a moment, they both just stood there. Foggy’s breath was hitched in his throat, watching Matt’s every movement for any tell that would show what was going through his mind. A tilt of the head, a bite of the lip, a flicker of a smile--

And then Matt burst into laughter.

Foggy’s eyes widened. To be honest, he had been hoping that Matt would leap forward and kiss him, like in the movies. Laughing at him had been far lower down on his list of expectations. He would have been less surprised if Matt had taken off his glasses and declared that Foggy’s love had allowed him to see again.

“Are you…” began Foggy.

Matt got his laughter under control and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just… I thought that I’d fucked things up by calling what we were doing a date. I thought I had scared you away. But here you are. I’m not laughing at you, Foggy, I’m laughing at God for putting us on this roller coaster ride.”

“What are you saying?” asked Foggy.

“I’m saying I’m in love with you, too,” said Matt. “Now can I please kiss you already so I feel like less of an asshole for laughing in your face?”

The tension snapped in Foggy’s chest as soon as the words ‘I’m in love with you’ were out of Matt’s perfect, perfect mouth. “Oh, thank God,” he breathed. “Yes, please. Kiss me.”

Matt reached out and rested a warm hand on the back of Foggy’s neck. His other hand moved to Foggy’s face, fingers skimming his cheek, sending shivers through his skin. Foggy closed his eyes as Matt’s fingers began to wander, tracing the line of his jaw, up to the ridge of his nose, and down to his lips, parting them with his thumb. It was almost too much. Matt’s touch was soft, but Foggy could feel the desire humming underneath his skin, the barely restrained force. Foggy’s entire body was screaming for Matt to bridge the gap and kiss him; each inch of skin that he touched made Foggy feel weaker, made him feel that if Matt didn’t kiss him soon he would die. He gave a soft sigh.

As Matt’s fingers drifted up to Foggy’s temple, a thought broke through the haze of arousal and elation. Matt wasn’t just touching Foggy’s face as foreplay. That was how he  _ saw.  _ He was looking at Foggy.  _ Staring  _ at him _.  _ Foggy swallowed hard, that all too familiar doubt at war with the heat pulsing in his abdomen. 

_ Stop it,  _ Foggy told himself.  _ Matt isn’t like that.  _ Somehow, the stars had aligned and Matt  _ loved  _ him. Maybe-- just maybe-- he would love his face, too. It was a concept Foggy had never considered before.

Matt traced Foggy’s temple, over his cheekbone, and back down to his jaw. And then he smiled. 

“You’re perfect,” he murmured.

And then his lips were on Foggy’s.

Foggy Nelson saw the world like a mural, in splashes of colour. And kissing Matt Murdock was like every single colour he had ever seen combined, a blinding white light that burned right down to his core.

It wasn’t like in the movies.

It was  _ better,  _ better than any movie Foggy had ever seen or would ever see. He placed one hand on the back of Matt’s neck, running it up into his short hair and then down over his back. The other hand snaked its way around Matt’s waist, feeling the warmth of the lawyer’s skin under his sweatshirt. Foggy could feel all of his thoughts and memories spilling from his head to make way for that kiss. The taste of Matt’s lips. The coolness of his glasses against Foggy’s skin. The way Matt’s stubble brushed against his mouth.  _ God,  _ he was so hot.

_ Why did I come here again? _

Foggy pulled away from Matt, running his tongue over the inside of his lips, still incredulous that  _ Matt  _ had been there just seconds ago. For a moment, with his eyes trained on Matt’s perfect mouth, he almost dove right back in.

_ No. Come on, Foggy. Focus.  _ “I almost forgot,” he said. “Matt, I finished redesigning your office!”

* * *

The walk to Matt’s office was significantly better than the trip before it. For one, the reason that Foggy’s heart was pounding was not because he was sprinting, but because Matt’s fingers were entwined in his. The ghost of their kiss was still present on Foggy’s lips.

Once they reached Matt’s office, Foggy swung the door open and stepped aside to let Matt walk in. “Ta-da!” he exclaimed.

When Matt said nothing, Foggy glanced over at him. Matt had propped his cane up against the doorframe and was running his hands along the wall.

_ Right.  _ Foggy rubbed his eyes, feeling like an idiot. Sighted clients were able to see all of the changes to their space right away, and their excitement was immediate and very outward. Foggy thrived on their reactions. He had forgotten, of course, that he was redecorating Matt’s office for his clients, not for the lawyer himself.

“Wow,” mused Matt, pulling Foggy out of his thoughts. He had made his way over to the chairs and was feeling the fabric. “These are leather?”

“Faux leather, but a much higher quality faux leather than the other one you had. And they  _ match _ ,” said Foggy. “They’re black, the same colour as the new bookshelves and your new desk.”

Matt smiled. “Tell me more.”

Foggy wandered into the middle of the room as Matt felt around. “The walls are this really nice shade of blue,” he described. “They’re cornflower, but that doesn’t mean anything to you. Um… picture a clear sky during early evening. Not too light, not too dark. It’s a strong colour, but there’s a softness to it, too. A vulnerability.” He looked around. “I didn’t do much to the floors, because the owner of the office complex told me that if I did, he’d smack the sissy haircut off of me-- his words, not mine,” he added as Matt’s eyebrows raised. “So the floors are the same, but they’ve been cleaned and polished, and there’s a nice rug in the middle of the room, too. It’s white, to contrast the chairs, and it has this nice pale blue lining. Um… here, come over here.” He went over and put a hand on Matt’s back, guiding him gently to the corner of the room to the right of the door. “There’s a coat hanger here… feel this. It’s made to look a bit like a tree, and it’s silver. Don’t worry, there are some silver highlights elsewhere, so it’s not completely out of place.”

“Thank you,” quipped Matt. “I was really worrying about that.”

Foggy laughed, leaning his head down to rest his forehead on Matt’s shoulder. He felt Matt plant a soft kiss onto the top of his head. Heat spread through Foggy’s chest, and he raised his head to meet Matt’s lips with his own. They exchanged a few kisses, and then Foggy forced himself to pull away. “God,” he murmured. “You’re making it so hard to concentrate on this.”

“Sorry,” replied Matt, grinning. “Go on.”

“There’s only a few things left,” Foggy told him. “So, just so you know, your Columbia diploma is still here. It’s in a sexy new silver frame now, though. Behind your desk, so your clients can see that you’re the real deal. But there was still that blank wall to the right, so I picked out a painting for you. It’s a nice one that some local artist did of Hell’s Kitchen from an aerial perspective. Vanessa Marianna, not sure if you’ve heard of her? Anyway, it’s done in all these amazing watercolours, mostly reds and oranges. It sort of looks like fire. A world on fire, if you will. But it’s fitting, considering the name of our dear neighbourhood.”

Matt reached toward the painting but hesitated, his fingers inches away. “Can I touch it?” he asked.

“It’s yours, Matt. You can touch whatever you want.”

The corners of Matt’s perfect mouth turned up in a soft smirk. One of his hands made contact with the painting, feeling the slight bumps and grooves that the artist’s paintbrush had left. His other hand appeared on the small of Foggy’s back, sending a shiver up his spine. As if Matt could sense this, he said, “You  _ did  _ say I could touch whatever I wanted.”

Foggy’s legs turned to jelly. He resisted the urge to push Matt up against the wall and kiss him until his lips went numb. “Careful, Matt,” he breathed. “I just made this place look good. I don’t want to make a mess.”

Matt chuckled, but kept his hand on Foggy’s back. “I love this painting,” he remarked. “Thank you, Foggy. Everything you’ve done… it sounds perfect. I’m so glad you were the interior decorator I called.”

“I’m the only one in Hell’s Kitchen,” said Foggy.

“Okay, but you’re the best one.”

“And the worst, too, since I  _ am  _ the only one.”

Matt smiled and brushed his lips across Foggy’s. “I love you, Foggy, but please shut up.”

They kissed, and Foggy closed his eyes. He didn’t need to look at the colours around the room. Kissing Matt made colours bloom behind his eyes.

 


End file.
